[h3]White Church Workshop, Upper Cathedral Ward, high above western Yharnam[/h3]
With one last suspicious glare – and a quick appreciative glance at Gerlinde – the cleric walked off in the direction of the Lumenflower Garden, leaving the party under the watchful eyes of a dozen civilians and five different White Church Hunters. Though people around the room seemed to somewhat resume what they had been doing, chatting among themselves, refilling supplies from the tables or performing maintenance on Hunter gear, it was also quite clear that people were now paying close attention to them. It was quite clear just from observing everyone that they had crossed a line and teetered on the verge of committing taboo by trying to get into the storage room while not being affiliated with the White Healing Church.
Even so, Farren leaving only earned a few glances to check what he was doing. No one did anything to halt his exit, nor did anyone seem particularly concerned with what he was doing. He was permitted to leave without incident, and as soon as he left the building attention refocused on those who remained waiting for the cleric to return.

A couple of minutes passed, with Torquil restlessly fidgeting and Gerlinde calmly humming a cheerful tune for most of the duration, until finally the cleric rounded the corner and returned to the main room. Only, the cleric was not alone. Right behind him followed Vicar Harold himself, fingers steepled in front of him and an impatient frown on his face. And right behind him followed a third, who they might struggle to recognize... but at closer inspection would realize was Victor.
Though Victor was still wearing the uniform of a White Church Hunter, he now also wore weird golden plates of armor on top of it on his arms, legs and torso; pieces of armor that did not appear to be strapped onto him, but rather looked as though the metal itself somehow enveloped each part of him in a way that raised questions as to how he put it on and how he could get it off. Strangest of all was that he also wore some manner of ornament on his head that looked like some bizarre mix of a golden crown and a five-legged spider, with legs or tendrils extending from the golden mass on top of his scalp and down along the sides and back of his head. Even his armaments had changed, as the Holy Sword he usually carried on his back had been replaced by a golden zweihander, and the blunderbuss on his hip had been switched with some manner of gilded and ruby-adorned, vaguely firearm-like device.
It was not just his garb and weaponry that had changed either. Whereas the Victor they had seen in the past had appeared quite well-groomed – as much as the circumstances allowed, at least – he now seemed rather disheveled. His usually tidy beard and combed hair were tangled messes; his once-neat uniform was crumpled and bore several obvious stains; and his normally hyper-attentive, paranoid eyes looked dull, his expression was blank, and he did not appear to display any kind of recognition of Ophelia or Torquil even as they came into view.

“The sheer audacity,” Vicar Harold sighed, lowering his hands and shaking his head grimly. “Gods help you... I knew Gerlinde was insane, but I never expected the rest of you to come here after what you had done. Is it out of madness or foolishness, I wonder?” His expression hardened. “Get out of here. Now. And I don't recommend coming back.”